Copyright 4 December 1942 by 20th Century-Fox Film Corp. New York release at the Roxy: 23 December 1942. U.S. release: 16 October 1942. U.K. release: June 1943. Australian release: 23 March 1944. Sydney release at the Plaza: 17 March 1944. U.S. length: 7,859 feet (87 minutes). Australian length: 7,781 feet (86½ minutes). U.K. length: 82 minutes.
SYNOPSIS: 1674. Henry Morgan returns to Jamaica as governor (in actual fact he was appointed lieutenant-governor, senior member of the council and commander-in-chief) determined to rid the Caribbean of privateers.
NOTES: Leon Shamroy won the year's most prestigious award for Best Color Cinematography: Alfred Newman was nominated for Best Scoring of a Drama or Comedy (lost to Max Steiner for Now Voyager); Fred Sersen (together with sound recordists Heman and Leverett) lost Special Effects to Reap the Wild Wind.
COMMENT: Disappointing. Oh, it's colorful enough — in fact, some of the costumes are vividly, almost grotesquely striking, they're so hued with such dazzling richness — but the total effect is soporifically bland. The scriptwriters have managed to turn even such picturesque buccaneers as Henry Morgan and Billy Leech into the strutting but empty figures of child's play. And if the supporting shadows are somewhat less than full-bodied, what can we say of the wordy hero (Tyrone Power), his fast-drinking mate (Thomas Mitchell) and his windmill-eyed paramour (Maureen O'Hara)?
Oh, Mr. Power's fans (and they are legion) will enjoy it all immensely. He ripples his torso with his usual dash and delivers his lines with his usual moronic earnestness. But frankly, Mr Power neither cools nor excites my blood. I can take him or leave him. He's as fascinating as his material. And when his script is a compendium of such catatonic clichés as the seven-seas "Swan", I can definitely hold my enthusiasm.
Usually, these male-in-the-bedchamber epics provide a few lesser marvels for the reluctant men in their audience, such as a few rousing fights, a fanciful heroine, maybe some witty dialogue and crusty henchmen, or a group of colorful villains. The Black Swan employs none. There are plenty of fights, but so obviously contrived by speeding the camera, a child would laugh at their simplicity.
As for Miss O'Hara, she is such a shrewish, garrulous doxy, we are amazed that even the catatonic Mr Power is not alive to her deficiencies. The dialogue is as pungent as a wet blanket and even favorite character actors like Laird Cregar are utterly wasted; while the one enjoyable, albeit conventional villain in the piece, Roger Ingram, is unaccountably left free to enjoy his traitorous desserts. Just as we are setting sail for the final confrontation, the film abruptly ends!
Henry King's direction is as lifeless as the sleepwalker's niece. Except for one remarkable shot (so clumsy and inept it doesn't work) he seems to have gone to considerable lengths to ensure his compositions are as dull and undramatic as possible. Shamroy's vivid photography, Luick's colorful costumes and Newman's derivatively Korngold score, offer at best a secondary compensation.
SYNOPSIS: 1674. Henry Morgan returns to Jamaica as governor (in actual fact he was appointed lieutenant-governor, senior member of the council and commander-in-chief) determined to rid the Caribbean of privateers.
NOTES: Leon Shamroy won the year's most prestigious award for Best Color Cinematography: Alfred Newman was nominated for Best Scoring of a Drama or Comedy (lost to Max Steiner for Now Voyager); Fred Sersen (together with sound recordists Heman and Leverett) lost Special Effects to Reap the Wild Wind.
COMMENT: Disappointing. Oh, it's colorful enough — in fact, some of the costumes are vividly, almost grotesquely striking, they're so hued with such dazzling richness — but the total effect is soporifically bland. The scriptwriters have managed to turn even such picturesque buccaneers as Henry Morgan and Billy Leech into the strutting but empty figures of child's play. And if the supporting shadows are somewhat less than full-bodied, what can we say of the wordy hero (Tyrone Power), his fast-drinking mate (Thomas Mitchell) and his windmill-eyed paramour (Maureen O'Hara)?
Oh, Mr. Power's fans (and they are legion) will enjoy it all immensely. He ripples his torso with his usual dash and delivers his lines with his usual moronic earnestness. But frankly, Mr Power neither cools nor excites my blood. I can take him or leave him. He's as fascinating as his material. And when his script is a compendium of such catatonic clichés as the seven-seas "Swan", I can definitely hold my enthusiasm.
Usually, these male-in-the-bedchamber epics provide a few lesser marvels for the reluctant men in their audience, such as a few rousing fights, a fanciful heroine, maybe some witty dialogue and crusty henchmen, or a group of colorful villains. The Black Swan employs none. There are plenty of fights, but so obviously contrived by speeding the camera, a child would laugh at their simplicity.
As for Miss O'Hara, she is such a shrewish, garrulous doxy, we are amazed that even the catatonic Mr Power is not alive to her deficiencies. The dialogue is as pungent as a wet blanket and even favorite character actors like Laird Cregar are utterly wasted; while the one enjoyable, albeit conventional villain in the piece, Roger Ingram, is unaccountably left free to enjoy his traitorous desserts. Just as we are setting sail for the final confrontation, the film abruptly ends!
Henry King's direction is as lifeless as the sleepwalker's niece. Except for one remarkable shot (so clumsy and inept it doesn't work) he seems to have gone to considerable lengths to ensure his compositions are as dull and undramatic as possible. Shamroy's vivid photography, Luick's colorful costumes and Newman's derivatively Korngold score, offer at best a secondary compensation.